


Slow Like Honey

by Stacy LA Stronach (slashgirl)



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-02
Updated: 2010-08-02
Packaged: 2017-10-10 21:49:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/104671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slashgirl/pseuds/Stacy%20LA%20Stronach
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dreams haunt Reid and Hotch during a case.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Slow Like Honey

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: 26 Obsession  
> prompt: We're pretending, right?  
> Written for the fic-a-thon of ; Prompt provided: "I'm haunted by my illicit, explicit dreams, and I can't really wake up, so I just drift in between." Kinks: adultery; boss/co-worker sex, bondage  
> Warnings: (if any): Bondage
> 
> This non case part of this story is heavily inspired by the Imogen Heap song "Come here boy"—I've been wanting to do a story with that sort of theme—and when I got the prompt for the ficathon of doom, I took that as a sign I should write it.  
> Thanks to nebula99 for the close to last minute beta read. :D

"Be careful what you wear to bed at night, you never know who you'll meet in your dreams." – Anonymous

"Though dreams can be deceiving  
Like faces are to hearts  
They serve for sweet relieving  
When fantasy and reality lie too far apart."  
Slow like honey – Fiona Apple

 

Dexter City, Nebraska

"C'mon, Michael, let's go home, baby…I've had enough nightlife for tonight."

Michael pouts at his lover, making him smile. "Oh, okay, Kevin. I guess that's what I get for falling in love with an old man."

Kevin chuckles, pulling his lover into a tight embrace and kissing him; his hands slide down to cup Michael's ass, pulling him close. "I'll show you what this old man can do when we get home," he whispers, squeezing Michael's ass.

"Promises, promises," Michael teases as they walk out of the crowded, noisy club into the relative silence of the street. "God there are never any cabs—"

A cab pulls up along the curb and Kevin laughs. "You were saying?"

Michael swats him on the arm. "Never mind, let's just get home, so you can show me some of your old man tricks."

The two men climb into the cab, still laughing. Kevin gives the cabbie the address before settling back against the seat next to his lover. Neither man notice the doors locking.

Five minutes later, Kevin looks out the window and frowns. "We're not going in the right direction."

"What?" Michael asks.

Kevin leans forward, knocking on the Plexiglas divider. "Hey, man, you're going the opposite direction of where we need to go. Don't try and fleece us with a longer cab ride!"

There's no visible reaction from the cabbie, just a slight shift of his head as he looks in the rear-view mirror.

"Damn it!" Kevin bangs on the divider again. He's getting nervous, something is wrong, really wrong; they're heading into an industrial area of the city…"C'mon, man—what the hell is going on?"

Picking up on his lover's obvious panic, Michael tries the door handle. It's locked and the lock release is missing—there's no way he can open the door. "What in the hell is going on? Kevin?"

Kevin tries his door; it too is locked and he can't see any way to unlock it. He pounds on the Plexiglas. "Hey, what the fuck? What are you doing?" He can't make out the man's features at all. He pulls out his cell phone but can't get any service on it. "Give me yours!" he shouts at Michael.

Michael looks at him. "Mine isn't working either."

Before either of them can speak again, the car stops outside a small, grey concrete building. The driver holds up a remote and clicks it, opening a loading bay door. He drives the car inside, parking it and turning it off. The bay door closes behind them.

Getting out of the car, the driver walks around to the side of the car Michael is sitting on and using a remote unlocks his door. He points a gun at him. "Either one of you tries something? I'll kill him." Reaching in, he pulls Michael out of the car. "Now you get out and don't try anything." Kevin slides across the seat, and climbs out slowly, holding his hands out where the man can see them.

As the man forces both of them to stand facing the car, Kevin realises that the man isn't hiding his face from them. He feels dread in the pit of his stomach—he knows this doesn't bode well for them….

*****************************  
Washington, DC  
Hotchner residence.

The room is dark; the air heavy with the scent of too many bodies in too small a space; there is loud dance music permeating the room and opening his eyes, Aaron Hotchner isn't sure where he is. The only thing he is sure of is the warm male body pressed against his own, the arms wrapped around his waist, the mouth sucking on his neck. Hotch has his arms wrapped around the other man's shoulders, one hand cupping the back of his head in encouragement.

He doesn't know who this man is, only that his body feels vaguely familiar and that he should know who it is but his mind is cloudy; he can't focus. Hotch wonders if someone spiked his drink. He doesn't remember drinking anything; doesn't remember anything before being here, in this mystery man's arms. Before he can worry about it, the other man licks a trail up the side of his neck, letting his mouth rest near Hotch's ear.

"It's okay, Aaron. I won't hurt you," he says, his voice barely audible above the noise of the music; his breath across Hotch's ear makes him shudder.

The voice sounds tantalisingly familiar but he can't place it; it's at the fringes of his memory and he tries moving so that he can see who this man is. Moving brings awareness of his body and of how hard his cock is. Instead of pulling away, Hotch tightens his grip on the other man, his hips thrusting forward. The music seems to be pounding in time to his pulse, or perhaps his pulse has picked up the music's rhythm—it doesn't matter because all Hotch can concentrate on is the feel of his soon to be lover's cock pushing against his own.

The other man slides his hand around to grasp Hotch's cock, stroking it through his jeans. Hotch groans, his head falling back as his eyes close. His lover starts trailing kisses down the side of Hotch's neck, nipping the base of it, making Hotch's cock twitch.

Something feels different; Hotch opens his eyes and is surprised to see that they're no longer in the club, but in a bedroom. It's not a room he recognises and one small part of his mind wonders how they got here…wherever here is. The air is even closer than in the club and while it isn't as dark, he still can't make out the features of the man in his arms. There's still music playing; it's quieter and more sensuous, darker than what had been playing in the club.

The wet suction of his lover's mouth on his nipple makes Hotch gasp and he holds the other man's head in his hands, wanting more. His lover licks and sucks on the hard nub, nipping it before moving his mouth to Hotch's other nipple, giving it the same treatment.

Hotch tries to tilt the other man's head up so he can see who he is. His lover has other ideas and steps back from Hotch.

"Strip," the other man orders and Hotch complies. His shirt has already disappeared, as have his shoes, leaving him with just his jeans and boxers to shimmy out of. His cock is achingly hard and he reaches down to stroke it.

"No! Kneel."

Hotch obeys without thinking. He drops to his knees, head bowed, hands clasped firmly behind his back, and he shivers, realising that he's given control to this man he doesn't even know. And it's the hottest damned thing he's done in years.

"You are so fucking hot…beautiful, hard for me…you'll do whatever I tell you, won't you, Aaron?" he asks, his voice barely a whisper.

"Yes."

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, sir," Hotch says in a strangled whisper.

The man reaches out and caresses the side of Hotch's face. "Good," he says moving to stand in front of Hotch. "Suck my cock."

Hotch moans, softly, before leaning forward, pressing his face against the other man's groin, rubbing his face against his cock. He can smell the musky scent of his lover's arousal and reaches up, undoing the jeans and pushing them down. Hotch hasn't done this since college but his body remembers what to do.

He grasps the base of his lover's cock, leaning in to lick up and down the length of it, before sucking the head into his mouth, his tongue flicking over the slit and around it. Using his hands, mouth and tongue, Hotch works to make his lover come.

Long fingers slide through his hair, gripping his head, and Hotch can hear the other man moaning. It doesn't seem to take long before his lover is saying, in a voice low and rough, "Oh, god, Aaron, so good, I'm gonna come." He does with a loud groan, his hips jerking, pushing his cock deeper into Hotch's mouth.

Hotch keeps sucking and stroking his cock, moaning as his lover's hips jerk and his come spurts into Hotch's mouth; he swallows, enjoying the sharp, bitter taste of it and realising just how much he's missed this. He slides his mouth off his lover's cock and waits. Hotch's own cock is hard and he wants to stroke it, wants to come but he waits, keeping his eyes closed, even as the other man drops to his knees beside him.

The other man is kneeling next to him now, his hand reaching out to stroke Hotch's cock. Hotch moans and when he opens his eyes, he sees his lover's face for the first time. The surprise of who it is, along with the hand on his cock, pushes Hotch over the edge into an intense orgasm, crying out his lover's name. "Spencer!"

Sitting up in bed, Hotch rubs his hands over his face before looking around. "Fuck, not again," he murmurs, realising that it was only a dream. He pushes the covers off and swings his legs around so he can get out of bed. Grimacing at the wetness on the front of his boxers, Hotch stands up, pushing them off; he hasn't had a wet dream since he was a teenager. He sighs as he glances at the clock, it's only 5:30. Knowing there's little point in trying to return to bed, he heads into the bathroom to take a shower, grabbing clean underwear from his dresser on the way.

Hotch turns the water on, adjusting the temperature until it's where he likes it before climbing under the spray. He tries not to think about the dream but his mind keeps drifting back to it; it's the third such dream he's had in as many weeks. Each time he has it, it's longer, more involved and this is the first time the identity of his "dream lover" has been revealed to him. The other times, he's woken up with a hard on…having a wet dream is a new twist. While Hotch is familiar with the various schools of dream interpretation, he's never been one to place much stock in his dreams and he doesn't plan to do so with this one either. It's just a dream, the weird working of his subconscious, nothing more. Setting thoughts of it firmly aside, Hotch finishes his shower.

He gets out of the shower and dries off before heading back into his bedroom. He pauses in the doorway of his bedroom, looking at his empty bed and he feels a pang of…guilt or maybe sadness. Haley is "visiting" her mother and has been there for a week already. Hotch is pretty sure she won't be coming home again. At least not home to him. He sighs, their marriage, which has been shaky for a while, seems to have finally died. Later today, he'll call her, offering to let her have the house; he'll move into an apartment, after all, he doesn't need this big house just for himself. Hotch hopes Haley will be reasonable about visitation with Jack…taking a deep breath, Hotch pushes the thoughts of his personal problems aside. He has to go to work.

*****************************  
BAU offices  
Quantico, VA

Arriving at work an hour early, Hotch is glad that the bullpen is empty and tries to ignore the small part of him that wishes Reid was there. He walks into his office and flips the switch on his coffee maker; while it's perking, he logs into his computer and does the rest of his morning rituals.

Two hours later and he's made a sizeable dent in his to-do pile and his body is starting to ache from having been in the same position too long. Standing up, Hotch stretches and decides to get another cup of coffee; he could use the movement. Grabbing the mug off his desk, he goes over to the machine and pours himself another cup.

He looks out through the slats of the blinds on his office windows and he immediately sees Spencer Reid, sitting at his desk and working on a file. Reid is checking something on the screen against what's in the file, his finger trailing down the screen while he makes notes in the file. Hotch watches him and bits of his dream flash into his mind; what Reid's hands felt like on his body, what his mouth felt like….

Hotch closes his eyes for a moment, forcing those thoughts away—it wasn't Reid in his dream, it was just a dream and work isn't really the place to be thinking about this. Opening his eyes, Hotch finds his gaze meeting Reid's and he fights the urge to step back from his window. Instead, he takes a sip of coffee and holds Reid's gaze for a moment before looking around the rest of the bullpen. He doesn't look at Reid again but sits back down at his desk.

He looks at his watch and seeing that it's close to ten, he decides to call Haley. He'd prefer to do this over the phone, but he's not sure what she will want. She answers her cell after four rings.

"Hello, Aaron," she says, her voice almost cold.

"Hi, Haley," he pauses for a moment and then decides he might as well dive right into things. "Look, I think we need to talk—"

"There's nothing to talk about."

"Yes, there is. There's the fact that you've been avoiding me by staying at your mother's place….I think we both know that it's over. It is, isn't it?" Hotch asks. He can hear her sniffling.

"Yeah, it is. I just can't do it anymore, Aaron; you're away all the time and the never knowing if you're going to come home…."

She's lying, not necessarily about that, but Hotch can hear it in her voice and it pisses him off. "So, it has nothing at all to do with your lover?" He hears her gasp and there's a pause before she speaks.

"How in the hell did you know about that? What did you do, follow me?"

Hotch chuckles harshly. "Actually, Haley, you just told me."

"Don't you use your profiler tricks on ME!"

"If it 's anything, it's a lawyer trick, not a profiler trick, Haley. It doesn't really matter why, does it?" Hotch asks. He continues before she can answer. "Look, the reason I called—I want you and Jack to have the house."

"You do?" Haley asks, sounding suspicious. "What do you want in return?"

"Other than to see my son? Nothing. I don't want to fight you for custody…we both know it's better if he's with you—but I do want to be able to see Jack."

"Aaron, I'd never keep you away from him!"

There's a knock on his door and Hotch says, "Just a minute, Haley", and puts her on hold. "Come in."

The door opens and JJ walks in, carrying several folders. She grabs the top ones and places them in front of Hotch. "Our next case. The Dexter City PD is requesting our assistance with killings of homosexual men. Eight men dead in the last four months—they were killed in pairs; apparently they were all couples in committed relationships."

Hotch glances over the file. "Interesting. You ready to go?"

"Yes, I'll go round the others up."

"Good, we'll meet in five, I need to finish up this phone call," Hotch says, watching JJ leave.

He takes the phone off hold. "Sorry, we've just had a case come up. Move back to the house and I'll stay at a hotel when we get back, until I can find an apartment."

"Of course, a case," Haley says bitterly.

"Yes, a case—look, we'll talk when I get back. Are you going to go back to the house?" he asks.

Haley pauses for a moment. "Yes, I am. And you're right, we do have to talk," she says and her voice softens. "Thank you, Aaron."

"Good bye, Haley," he replies, hanging up the phone. He's giving her the house for his son, not for her.

He grabs the files off his desk, putting his conversation with his wife out of his mind as best he can.

*****************************

"The first murders took place almost four months ago. The bodies of Thomas Wilkes and his lover, Matthew Jackson," JJ pauses, clicking the remote and bringing up the pictures of the two men, "were found dumped by the pond at the City Center park, discovered by a couple of joggers." JJ clicks the remote again, this time bringing up crime scene photos. The two men are tied together in the mockery of a lovers' embrace and one of the men has his head covered with a sack.

"The second killings were seven weeks after the first; the third, four weeks later, and the most recent, just two weeks after the last killing." JJ goes through the rest of the cases, showing picture after picture of the deceased and their bodies. "The latest victims, Michael Turner and Kevin Little, were found last Sunday beside the Interstate. The bodies are always found on Sunday." She puts up their pictures for a moment; Little is older than Turner, with dark hair and brown eyes; Turner has short dirty blonde hair and green eyes. Then she flips to the crime scene photos; again, posed in a lovers' embrace but with more damage to the bodies.

While JJ is reviewing the case, Hotch finds his gaze drawn to Reid, again. Reid is looking between what's showing on the screen and the file folder in front of him; as he does so, he's sucking on the end of his pen. Hotch stares, watching the pen slide between Reid's lips and his mind flashes back to his dream—sucking on Reid's cock…and Hotch wonders what it would feel like to have Reid's lips stretched around his cock. The sudden flare of lust that hits him makes Hotch close his eyes and he forces those thoughts down, focuses on what JJ is saying. After a few seconds, Hotch is able to open his eyes again and he stares at the folder in front of him.

JJ pauses and Hotch looks up from his folder. "They were all killed in a similar manner; the youngest of the pair was killed slowly, tortured and raped, over the course of two to three days and they were finished off with a knife to the heart. The older lover was killed a little faster, after the younger one died. There was mutilation to both victims; the older men were killed by being castrated and left to bleed to death. They were tied to their dead lovers while still alive—and the autopsy reports indicated they all most likely bled out before reaching the dumping ground."

Gideon, Morgan and Reid all wince at the mention of castration. Reid squirms in his seat a bit. "Interesting that he covers the faces of the younger men," he says. "Is he remorseful for killing them or can he not stand having them look at him?"

"Even though the couples are indeed couples, posing them in a lover's embrace is almost mocking the relationships," Gideon adds. "The younger men were all sexually assaulted—except for the first one. He assaults the younger one, but castrates the older one…"

"Power issue, maybe? He wants the older one to feel powerless—if he's killing them second, does he make them watch what he does to their lover?" Morgan asks. "Also, reading the autopsy reports, all the cuts were clean and swift—very precise; no hesitation marks at all, not even on the first body, although there is more mutilation with each killing. That could indicate some sort of experience with killing people—ex-military. Or he's been killing for longer than the PD thinks."

Prentiss frowns. "If he's making the older one watch—he wants them to feel impotent. So, something has made him feel impotent…involving a younger lover, perhaps? Killing what he can't have?" she shrugs.

"Garcia, look through the backgrounds of the victims, see if they had anything in common," Hotch says, nodding at her. He stands up, grabbing his file folders. "Okay, we'll be able to get a better feel for this once we're there. Wheels up in 25," he says, standing and leaving the room.

*****************************

Hotch is the first one on the plane and he sits in one of the solo seats up front and hopes that no one will sit across from him. Closing his eyes as the plane takes off, Hotch finds his thoughts drifting back to the dreams he's been having. The first one had been innocuous—dancing with some unknown man in a club. He remembers the dream vividly and now his mind replaces the faceless man with the vision of Spencer Reid. Hotch sighs.

The second dream had been set in the same club…with the same faceless man, only this time, in addition to dancing with him, Hotch had made out with him and had enjoyed it. Then there was the dream he'd had this morning—and finding out it was Reid had been a surprise. Not that Reid wasn't an attractive young man and not that Hotch hadn't had fleeting thoughts about what it would be like to be with Reid, but he'd never allowed himself to think about either of those two things for too long, for that way was trouble.

Hearing the creaking of the leather on the seat across from him, Hotch opens his eyes just enough to see who it is and he sighs. Just his luck that Reid would pick this flight to sit across from him.

Reid is looking out the window and Hotch takes the opportunity to stare at him. The sun, where it touches Reid's tawny hair, turns it the shade of honey, and the light flatters the planes and angles of his face, softening his features. Reid shifts in his seat, reaching down to grab a book out of his satchel and Hotch closes his eyes again. Which is a mistake as the only thing he can see in his mind's eye is Reid, naked, in front of him. Hotch gives up in his attempt to doze; he opens his eyes and grabbing the folders from his briefcase, he starts to review them.

"I'm not bothering you, am I?" Reid asks.

Hotch looks at him and shakes his head. "No, not at all," he says, even if that's not the complete truth, and returns his attention to the files.

They're about twenty minutes from landing when JJ's cell phone rings. She answers it and after a short discussion, she speaks to the team. "That was Detective Margaret Connelly—another pair of victims has been discovered. The difference is that this time, the older man survived, a John Manchester. He's in surgery right now—they expect him to be out and able to answer questions within a couple of hours."

Hotch stands up. "Okay, he's accelerating again…possibly devolving. I'll go to the hospital," he turns and looks at Reid. "Reid will come with me."

"I'll go to the crime scene," Gideon says. "Morgan?"

"I'll go with you," Morgan replies.

"JJ and Prentiss—I want you two to go to the station, check in with Garcia—see if she's found anything out. Also, start reviewing the PD's files, follow up with next of kin, if need be."

The women nod their agreement. JJ says, "Connelly said she'll meet us at the airport."

 

Dexter City, Nebraska

The team is barely inside the airport when a woman with short brown hair waves at them. She's about Prentiss' height and is wearing an expensive black pantsuit.

"You must be Agent Jareau," she says. She reaches out to shake JJ's hand. "I'm Margaret Connelly, this is my partner, Joseph Belvedere." She points to the black man beside her; he's tall and thin, wearing jeans and a Dexter City PD sweatshirt.

"Everyone calls me Bel," he says, shaking JJ's hand.

JJ smiles at them. "This is our team; Special Agents Aaron Hotchner, Jason Gideon, Emily Prentiss, Derek Morgan and Dr. Spencer Reid."

"Good to meet you, detectives," Hotch says. "We should get started right away; Gideon and Morgan would like to take a look at the crime scene. JJ and Prentiss will need to go the station and get things set up there—as well as look at any files you have related to the cases. Reid and I will be going to the hospital; we want to interview Manchester."

Connelly nods. "Bel can take your agents to the scene—I'll take the rest of you. We have to go past the station to get to the hospital anyway," she says. She pauses for a moment. "We have to go by the motel you'll be staying at…do you want to drop your things off?" When Hotch looks like he's going to say no, Connelly continues. "They'll put your things in your rooms for you, that's not a problem. Then you'll just have to pick up your keys."

"It's on the way?" Hotch asks.

"Yeah. Most things are in Dexter City," she says with a smile.

"Then we may as well," he says.

It takes them less than 15 minutes to check in at the motel and another 10 to drop off JJ and Emily. While they're on their way to the hospital, Connelly's cell phone rings and she answers it. It's a short call and when she's done, she glances at Hotch, who's riding shotgun.

"That was Eden, Dr. Vierra, she's the one who operated on that poor man. She says he's out of surgery and should be awake enough to answer questions in about half an hour."

"What's his prognosis?" Hotch asks.

"Eden said it's iffy right now. He lost a lot of blood from the wounds, not just the castration and he had damage to several internal organs." Connelly turns the SUV left, heading into the hospital parking lot.

Ten minutes later and the three of them are walking off the elevator. Hotch and Reid follow Connelly as she walks over to the desk. She reaches out and touches a woman on the shoulder. "Hey, Eden."

Eden turns around and smiles. "Connie. I'd say good to see you, but under the circumstances…" She's a petite woman with a dark complexion; her black hair is tied back in a bun and her brown eyes shine with passion.

"Eden Vierra, these are the FBI profilers I mentioned: Special Agents Aaron Hotchner and Dr. Spencer Reid."

"Wish we were meeting under more pleasant conditions," Vierra says, shaking Hotch's hand and smiling at Reid's wave to her. "Ph. D?" she asks.

Reid nods, smiling at her. "Yeah, three of them."

"What is the extent of Mr. Manchester's injuries?" Hotch asks.

Vierra looks at him. "He was stabbed 33 times—most of his internal organs were at least nicked if not perforated; we were able to repair all of that damage. He had stab wounds not just on his torso but on his arms and legs as well and several of those required stitches. His face and head were slashed between 15 and 20 times—it was hard to tell with some of the marks if it was made with one strike or two. He was also castrated; his testicles were removed and he lost a lot of blood with that injury," she pauses for a moment. "Connie told me how he was found. Right now he seems calm but if he remembers…." Vierra shrugged.

"Can we speak with him?" Hotch asks.

"I should say no, but Connie's impressed upon me how…urgent this situation is. Please try not to upset him."

"Dr. Vierra, given that he most likely watched his lover being tortured and then killed…I doubt we'll get away _without_ upsetting him. But if you feel it would be too much for him…."

Vierra stares at Hotch for a moment. "Follow me," is all she says.

They walk into Manchester's room; the man is covered in bandages and seems to be half asleep. He turns his head when he hears them come into the room. Vierra does a quick check of his vitals before stepping back.

Hotch and Reid approach the bed while Connie walks behind them. "Mr. Manchester?" Hotch says, continuing once the man has made eye contact with him. "I'm Special Agent Aaron Hotchner and this is Special Agent Spencer Reid, we're with the FBI's Behavioural Analysis Unit and we'd like to ask you some questions about what happened to you."

"FBI? Why are…" he coughs to clear his throat. "Water, please?"

Hotch holds the glass of water, letting Manchester get a drink. "We're helping the DCPD with the string of killings they've had lately; we believe you—"

"A serial killer? Jesus!"

"We are fairly certain that you and your lover were attacked by a serial killer, yes. Any information you can give to us will help."

Manchester looks from Hotch to Reid and back to Hotch. "I have no idea where to start…."

Reid says, "Just tell us what happened on Tuesday, start there."

"Tuesday night, we went down to the Rainbow Room—Shawn had just submitted the paperwork for his Masters, so we decided to celebrate. We partied a bit, but not too hard. We'd both had a bit to drink, Shawn was so happy, he'd worked so hard in school this year. Oh, God." Manchester pauses for a moment, trying to get himself under control.

"Take your time," Hotch says gently.

"We got into the cab, told him where we wanted to go. After a few minutes, I realised he was going the wrong way, I told him as much but he ignored me. I yelled at him to stop and he didn't. Shawn and I both tried to call out on our cell phones but they wouldn't work. I tried opening my door, but it was locked and I couldn't find anyway to unlock it. He took us to some old industrial building, I'm not sure where, but I think it's in one of the industrial parks—I don't know that part of town very well," Manchester is speaking quickly.

"He was driving a cab? Do you happen to remember the name of the company?"

"No. We weren't really paying attention—just thought we were lucky to find a cab. I'm sorry."

"That's okay," Hotch says gently. "How long did it take to get where he took you?"

Manchester pauses for a moment. "Maybe fifteen minutes, twenty minutes, maximum."

Hotch nods. "Can you estimate how fast he was driving—was he speeding?"

"No, not going really fast—seemed like he was going the speed limit, maybe a little slower, even after we started yelling at him, he didn't go any faster."

"He took you to a building; do you remember anything about it?"

Manchester shakes his head. "No, it was dark and I was too focussed on trying to get out of the car. He pulled the car inside, then opened the door on Shawn's side, said if I tried anything, he'd kill Shawn, and he had a gun so I believed him. He handcuffed Shawn, and brought him around to my side of the car—he opened my door and said the same thing, that he'd hurt Shawn if I tried anything. He handcuffed me, once I was out of the car and then he led us further into the building…it was awful, I could smell blood in there and there were tables set up…and, oh, god. Shawn," Manchester is crying now, sobbing.

Hotch reaches over and rubs his shoulder, gently. "We can finish this later, Mr. Manchester—"

"No, I…I want to finish this now. He…he hooked Shawn up on some contraption from the ceiling; Shawn's feet barely touched the floor. He chained me to the wall and there was a reverse mask sort of thing that made it so I couldn't look away from Shawn. Then he started…oh, god, he started torturing Shawn. He cut him up and hit him. He tried to…rape him but the bastard couldn't get it up, so he used…things on him. I couldn't see what, but it hurt Shawn, that much I could tell. He didn't touch me until Shawn was almost dead…I wish he'd killed me."

"Did he say anything to you or to Shawn, anything at all?" Hotch asks.

Manchester nods. "Yeah, he kept shouting at me—'See what happens when you take what you shouldn't?' and 'Can't do much to help your boy, now, can you?' 'Come on, why don't you save him!' Other stuff like that. He'd whisper stuff in Shawn's ear, but I couldn't always hear him. One time, he said something like, 'You shouldn't have done it, boy, this is your punishment for letting that old man touch you.' Shawn was almost dead when he finally stabbed him in the heart. I was hoping he'd kill me, too…but instead he…" Manchester trails off.

Hotch squeezes his shoulder. "Thank you. Did you get a good look at him?"

Manchester nods. "Yeah, he was big—probably around 6' 3" or 6' 4", heavy set, but with muscles, not fat. He was a white guy…brush cut black hair. I don't know what else…."

"Can you estimate how old he was?"

"I'm not sure…at least in his 40s, older rather than younger…."

"Did he have any tattoos or distinguishing marks that you could see?" Reid asks.

"No…but he wore long sleeves the whole time."

"If we sent a sketch artist over, do you think you could work with him to make a composite of your attacker?" Hotch says.

Manchester nods; he's crying again and leans back. "I wish he'd killed me…," he whispers.

Vierra clears her throat and looks at Hotch. Hotch nods.

"Thank you, very much, for telling us this…and Mr. Manchester, I am very sorry for your loss," Hotch says. When Manchester doesn't reply, Hotch turns and starts out of the room, with Reid and Connie behind him.

They wait for Vierra in the hallway. She comes out of the room looking rather shaken. "My God, how can people do that to one another?"

Connie slides an arm around her shoulders. "It's hard to understand, I know, but there are just some very sick people in the world."

"That's for sure!"

"How is he doing?" Hotch asks.

"I gave him a bit more sedative, to help calm him down. I'd really rather you didn't send that sketch artist in until tomorrow—he's very traumatised, not just physically, but mentally and emotionally as well," Vierra replies.

"Of course. We've got enough to make a workable profile, we can add the sketch when we get it," Hotch says. "Thanks for your help, Dr. Vierra."

************************  
Dexter City Police Department

When Hotch, Reid and Connie return to the station, the others are there and waiting in the conference room that's been set up for the team to use.

Bel stands up, moving away from the laptop on the table. "Hey, I've got your connection set up. It should work now."

JJ smiles at him. "Thanks, Bel." She looks at Hotch. "We had a bit of a technical glitch, but he seems to have fixed it."

Hotch nods at Bel and sits in the chair he just vacated. Garcia is already there. She smiles when she sees him. The rest of the team gather around behind Hotch.

"You've reached the All-Knowing, All-Seeing Garcia. How can I help you?"

Hotch flashes a quick grin. "Can you tell me who's murdering these men?"

"Outlook is not so good," Garcia replies with a quick grin. "But, I did the background check on the victims. So far, the only connection I can find between all of them—they all frequented a couple of the same clubs on Rainbow Row."

Hotch raises an eyebrow. "Rainbow Row?"

"It's a street that has a half dozen gay clubs, a couple gay theatres and several gay friendly restaurants," Reid pipes up. "The street is actually called Melanson Boulevard…but it's known locally as Rainbow Row and has been since the late 60s."

"And Reid, for the win!" Garcia says with a grin. "He's got it right. All four of the couples frequented the Rainbow Room and Doyle's Tavern, just up the street from the Rainbow Room."

"Thanks, Garcia; you have anything else?" Hotch asks.

"No, sorry, that's it. I'm still digging," she replies.

"Okay. He drives a cab but whether he's working for a cab company or just owns one, we aren't sure, so run a check of the local companies, see if there's a record of a pick up there at that time. There probably won't be, but it needs to be checked.

"We also know that he's most likely taking his victims to a building he owns or rents in one of the industrial parks—we don't have a name for you, but the victim who survived says that it was about fifteen to twenty minutes drive, probably at posted speed limits, away from the bar where they were picked up. There are two industrial parks near there…just run a check on owners or renters—cross reference it against cab drivers. It's a long shot, but all we have to go on for now."

"Will do," Garcia replies. "Anything else?"

Hotch shakes his head. "Not for right now. Let me know if you get anything, anything at all."

"Always, mon capitaine!" Garcia says before cutting the connection.

Hotch looks at the rest of the team. "Let's get started."

*****************************  
Thirty minutes later, the team is ready to present their profile. They're standing in various spots around the front of the room. Morgan and Prentiss are leaning against a table near the bulletin boards; Gideon is standing a few feet from where Hotch is, in front of the boards, while Reid is sitting in a chair on the side of the room. JJ is working on the press release while they give the profile.

While they're waiting for the cops to come in, Hotch hears Connie's cell phone ring; she answers it, moving into one of the offices to speak. She comes out a couple minutes later and walks over to Hotch, looking very unhappy.

"That was Eden, Dr. Vierra," Connie says. "John Manchester just died."

Hotch closes his eyes for a moment and sighs. He looks at Connie. "What happened?"

"He got agitated and got out of bed—managed to rip out some of the internal work they'd done. They had to take him back into surgery and he had a heart attack on the table."

"Damn."

"It's a shame he won't be able to do the sketch," Connie says.

Hotch shakes his head. "Yes, but I hate it when a killer claims another victim."

"But the killer didn't kill him—"

"Didn't he? If it wasn't for what the killer did to Manchester—he would never have been in the hospital or had to have surgery. He killed him as surely as if he'd stabbed him through the heart," Hotch replies. He tells the rest of the team and moves Manchester's picture to the victims' board before turning around to start giving the profile.

"First of all, for those who don't know, John Manchester died of a heart attack this evening," Hotch says. He waits for the murmuring to quiet down before he continues. "From our interview with Mr. Manchester, we know that the unsub is a white male—in his 40s; around 6' 3" or 6' 4", black, brush cut hair." Hotch pauses for a moment. "He appears normal to those around him. His neighbours will be shocked to find out about his criminal activities; most will say that they would never have guessed him capable of what he's done.

"He's not killing at home, he's taking his victims to a warehouse in an industrial district—given that there are two huge industrial parks in your city, checking the ownership and rental of them is time consuming and without a name to go on…. This also means that he must have some sort of vehicle to transport the bodies in without raising suspicion. He drives a cab to pick up his victims—waiting outside the clubs; since he's targeting the type of couple he wants, it would be easy enough for him to refuse other fares by claiming he's already on a call to pick up someone else until the right types show up. Manchester says they couldn't use their cell phones—he may be using a cell phone jamming device to prevent his victims calling for help. He most likely has a second vehicle; probably an SUV or a van to transport the victims after he kills them."

Gideon starts pacing in front of Hotch. "The unsub is devolving—there's less time between the killings and while his attacks on his victims are still fairly controlled, they're getting messier each time. Since there is no record of this sort of killing before the first set of bodies were found—it is very likely that a stressor set him off. The main triggers are loss of job or loss of a loved one. We think he lost someone he loved, namely his younger lover.

"The fact that the unsub kidnaps only those involved in what's commonly called a 'May-December' relationship, and that he berates the older of the two for not being able to save their lover—this points to his having lost a younger lover."

Prentiss continues. "Sexual predators operate from a fantasy—every killing is an attempt to act out and perfect that fantasy. Of course, they never do get the perfection they're seeking—real life is messy and things go wrong. We know his fantasy involves the older man saving the younger from danger; from what John Manchester told us he said and did. There may have been something he was unable to keep from happening to his younger lover. The castration and berating of the victims, his inability to physically rape the young victims…."

"Means that he's impotent," Morgan says. "We know this because of what John Manchester told us, but also because of the autopsy reports on the bodies—the younger victims were all sodomised with objects. The castration of the older of the victims also tells us he's impotent and he wants his victims to be just like him. This could mean that he was impotent in his own relationship and that's why it ended or he felt emasculated by his lover leaving him—perhaps there was a public end to things, or at least in front of other people and the unsub is embarrassed about it."

Reid stood, moving closer to the bulletin boards. "This type of killer, a power lust killer, often contacts the media and wants attention—this unsub hasn't, but there's been lots of media coverage without his having to do anything. He may also try to inject himself into the investigation—he wants to know what the police know. He believes that he is better and smarter than the cops are because they haven't found him yet. You may have already interviewed him in relation to this case," he says. "In fact, it's highly probable you _have_ interviewed him."

"He's employed, more likely self employed than working for someone else—he feels he's too brilliant to be wasted working for others. Whatever his job is, it gives him a lot of flexibility—he can be cruising the bars late at night and killing his victims during week days; there's a chance he may have money—an inheritance or a wealthy family—renting an industrial space isn't cheap."

Hotch nods at Reid. "We'll be releasing this profile to the press along with a warning for gay men to be cautious about getting into cabs they didn't call. Thank you."

 

*****************************

It's after 11 pm by the time the team gets back to the motel. Reid says goodnight to everyone else in the lobby and trudges to his room. He's tempted to just fall into bed but takes a shower first; he's quick and less than half an hour later, he's sound asleep, buried under the covers of his bed.

Reid opens his eyes and looks around the room. It's a bedroom, but not one he recognises. He frowns, trying to remember where he was before he was here. He can't. It's close in the room and he can feel the sweat beading on his body and he realises that he's naked. As he raises his eyes, he gasps, surprised to see Hotch kneeling on the floor a couple feet away from him.

Hotch is naked and his head is bowed with his hands clasped behind his back. Reid feels his cock starting to get hard at the sight, there's something about seeing Hotch subjugating himself like that…naked and waiting. Realising that Hotch is like that for _him_ sends a shock of lust through him.

Reid walks slowly around Hotch, looking at his naked body and enjoying what he sees. He stops in front of Hotch, fingers sliding under his chin and tilting his head up. When Hotch keeps his eyes lowered, Reid says, "Look at me, Aaron." Hotch does, and when their gazes meet, it sends a surge of desire through Reid, making his cock achingly hard. "Do you know how sexy you are, kneeling there, waiting for me like that?" Reid whispers. "So beautiful and you're all mine, aren't you? All mine." Reid leans down and presses a quick kiss on Hotch's mouth. "Lovely."

Moving behind Hotch, Reid drops to his knees; he leans in, kissing the back of Hotch's neck while his hands caress Hotch's shoulders. Hotch moans softly, head dropping forward again; he gasps when Reid nips at the base of his neck, his hands sliding down Hotch's arms, moving them so they're hanging at his sides. Reid pushes his knee between Hotch's legs, urging them apart and he moves forward, pressing his body against Hotch's back. He slides one arm around Hotch's shoulders, the other around his waist and Reid's cock slides against the crack of Hotch's ass, making him whimper.

Reid leans forward, pressing his mouth against Hotch's ear. "What do you want, Aaron? Tell me," he whispers, tongue flicking out to lick at the shell of Hotch's ear.

Moaning, Hotch leans his head back on Reid's shoulder, his eyes closed. "Spencer…oh, god, I want you to fuck me, please…fuck me…."

Sliding one hand down Hotch's chest to rub and pinch his nipples, Reid trails the fingers of his other hand over Hotch's abdomen, down the dark line of hair to his cock, grasping it in his hand and stroking it. Hotch moans, hips thrusting forward at the touch. Reid kisses and licks down the length of Hotch's throat, along the ridge of his shoulder, nipping at the pale skin, wanting to mark it, to mark him.

Hotch groans again, pushing back against Spencer. "Please, Spencer, please!" he begs.

"Please, what?" Reid asks, biting at the base of Hotch's neck.

Gasping, Hotch whispers, "Fuck me, please, fuck me. I want you so much, please…."

Reid pulls back and Hotch whimpers at the loss of contact. Taking hold of Hotch's arms, Reid gently urges him forward. "Hands and knees," he says.

Hotch obeys, leaning forward onto his hands. Reid runs his hands from Hotch's shoulders down to his ass. Reid pushes his ass cheeks apart and leans forward, licking down the crack of Hotch's ass and over his hole, before pushing his tongue inside. He does this several times, until Hotch is whimpering and pushing back onto Reid's tongue.

After a few minutes, Reid sits back on his knees and turns, grabbing the lube off the night stand. He squeezes some onto his fingers before pushing one finger slowly in and out of Hotch, finger fucking him; he bends his finger and drags it across Hotch's prostate.

"Oh, fuck," Hotch hisses, his head dropping forward. He groans when Reid adds a second finger, scissoring them, stretching him. "Spencer…," he whines.

Reid keeps it up for a bit, enjoying the noises his lover is making. Finally, he takes pity on Hotch; he spreads lube over his cock and rising up on his knees, he pushes slowly inside of Hotch, groaning as he does.

Reid's just closed his eyes, delighting in the tight heat of his lover's ass, when he hears a bell ringing. He tries to ignore it but he can't and when he opens his eyes, Reid gasps—he's in his motel room and the phone is ringing. "Fuck," he mutters, annoyed at having been woken from his dream. Squinting at the clock, he sees that it's barely four a.m. He picks up the receiver and growls "What!"

"Reid, you okay?" Hotch asks.

Feeling his cock twitch at the sound of Hotch's voice, Reid sighs. "Yeah, sorry, I was just having a very…intense dream."

"Sorry if it was a good one," Hotch says. "The unsub's killed two more men—a couple teenagers sneaking home from a party found them. We're meeting in the lobby in 15 minutes."

"Okay, I'll be there," Reid says, hanging up the phone. He looks down at where his cock is tenting the sheet and sighs again, closing his eyes. Sliding his hand down, Reid grabs his cock and starts stroking it—he's close and with visions of his dream still fresh in his mind, it doesn't take him long to come, muffling his shout with the back of his hand.

 

*****************************

Dexter City PD  
Conference Room  
7:30 a.m.

"Man, what are we going to do? He's killing people every other day now," Morgan says, looking at the bulletin board where pictures of the latest victims are now posted.

The rest of the team is silent for a few moments. Gideon shifts in his chair, leaning forward. "We could send someone in undercover—we still keep looking with the conventional methods, but he's killing more often, I think we need to try everything," he says, staring at Hotch.

"But, sir, who would we send in?" Prentiss asks.

Gideon looks from Hotch to Reid and then at Prentiss. "Hotch and Reid. They fit the profile; older, dark haired man and younger, fair haired man."

Everyone in the room is silent and looking at the two men. Hotch nods. "You're right, Jason. We need to use every trick we have…are you okay with this, Reid?"

Reid hopes that he doesn't look as nervous as he feels and tries to shrug nonchalantly. "I'm fine."

Hotch gives him a small smile before looking at Connie. "Does you department have a safe house or someplace they can set us up? We'll probably be a few days."

Connie nods. "Yeah, there's a duplex you can use—it's in an area which, while not exclusively gay, does have a lot of gays and lesbians living there, mostly in middle to high income brackets. I'll call and arrange for it to be set up for you."

"Good. We'll need a cover story, even if it's just for the neighbours," Hotch says. "We've just moved here as I got a job at a local law firm, and we want to live in a smaller city; better community here."

"Well, I can obviously pass as a grad student—working on my Ph. D. Followed you here—maybe attending the state university. It's not far from here, so that's practical."

Bel says, "I have a friend that runs a small law office. I'm sure he won't mind saying you're working for him."

"That will work, not that it's too likely the unsub will care, but we need to be convincing to the rest of the people around us," Hotch replies. He keeps glancing at Reid; he seems calm, but the rapid tapping of his pen on the table gives away Reid's nervousness. Hotch is nervous as well. He sighs, wishing there was another way to do this. Maybe they'll catch the unsub before they have to go undercover.

*****************************

A few hours later, Hotch and Reid arrive at the duplex. As Connie has said, it's in a nice neighbourhood. The duplex is in good shape with a well maintained yard, similar to the other dwellings on the street.

"This is a nice place," Reid says, unlocking the door and walking in. The main floor is open concept; a large living room, fair sized dining area and nice sized kitchen and it's furnished with relatively new furniture.

"Yeah, it is nice," Hotch agrees. He strides through, going upstairs to the second floor. There's a master bedroom, huge bathroom, and a spare room that is set up as an office—computer included. Hotch walks into the master bedroom—it's huge—there's a fire place with a small seating area at one end, two huge dressers and a king size bed in the middle of the room; there's a large walk in closet as well.

Walking into the bedroom behind Hotch, Reid chuckles upon seeing the king size bed. "Um, that's a huge bed."

"Yeah, looks comfy." Hotch starts putting his clothes away; he notices that Reid is still standing there, staring at the bed. "Look, Spencer, if you're not comfortable sharing a bed with me, I'll sleep on the couch."

Reid looks at him and grins shyly. "Hotch, that bed is more than big enough for two—hell, you could fit four in it easily. It won't bother me."

"Four? Were you thinking of inviting some people to join us?" Hotch asks, deadpan.

"I-what? No!" Reid sputters.

Hotch laughs. "I was kidding."

"I knew that!" Reid says indignantly as he starts putting his stuff away.

"Keep telling yourself that," Hotch says, still laughing.

Reid snorts and throws a pair of his mismatched socks at Hotch, missing him by a few inches. Hotch grabs them and turns around, eyes narrowed. He whips the socks back at Reid, hitting him in the ass and laughing at the shocked expression on his face. "High school and college baseball," Hotch says with a smirk. Reid rolls his eyes and continues putting his clothes away, including the socks.

Hotch walks over behind him, sliding an arm around his waist and leaning in to kiss his cheek. When Reid freezes, Hotch pulls back. "Re-Spencer, we have to get used to touching each other; we're supposed to be a couple who've been together for a few years. If you tense every time I touch you, people won't buy it."

"I'm sorry, Aaron, it's been a few years since I've had a steady relationship. I…I'm still getting into my 'role'," Reid says with a wry grin.

Hotch slides his arm around Reid's shoulders, pulling him close. "That's okay, we'll practice some later. I'm going to check out the kitchen, see what's there for lunch. Do you want me to make you anything?"

Reid thinks for a minute. "Nah, I'll just have a sandwich or something, I'm not overly hungry. Thanks, though."

Hotch nods and makes his way downstairs. The kitchen is well appointed with modern conveniences; Hotch checks the fridge and the cupboards and they're all well stocked. Noticing the coffee maker, he puts some coffee on before grabbing the ingredients for a tossed salad out of the fridge. He smiles when he sees the bottles of beer on the bottom shelf—cops definitely outfitted this house—and he grabs a bottle. He takes his lunch out onto the deck which overlooks the backyard. The property borders a small river and the view from the deck is gorgeous.

Leaving his salad on the patio table for a moment, Hotch walks over to the railing and watches the slow-moving river. The backyard is private; fences screen it from the neighbours on both sides and it is beautifully landscaped.

He hears Reid coming out onto the patio and he grins when Reid's arms wrap around his waist, body pressing against his, his chin resting on Hotch's shoulder. "How's this for comfortable?" Reid asks.

Hotch chuckles, bringing his hands up to cover Reid's where they rest on his belly. "Pretty good." They stand like that for a few minutes until Hotch turns around in Reid's embrace. Reid doesn't move. They stare at each other before Reid tilts his head, leaning forward and pressing a chaste kiss against Hotch's mouth.

Gasping at the contact, Hotch grips Reid's shoulders in his hands and he moans when Reid slides his tongue into his mouth and presses his body even closer to Hotch's. At the first taste of Reid, Hotch groans, bits of his dreams flitting through his mind and he wants nothing more than to drop to his knees and suck on Reid's cock or, even more, to have Reid fuck him, right here on the deck. Hotch can feel his cock getting hard; he breaks the kiss, tries to move away from Reid, not wanting him to notice….

Reid moves one hand up to cup the back of Hotch's head and he doesn't let him move away. "No," he growls, kissing Hotch hard, his tongue thrusting into his mouth as Reid pushes him against the railing. Hotch groans, giving in, kissing Reid and wraps his arms around Reid, hands sliding slowly up and down his back. He spreads his legs, letting Reid push his thigh between and Hotch rubs his cock against him.

Reid drags his mouth away from Hotch's trailing kisses along his jaw line, licking and sucking up to Hotch's ear. Hotch tilts his head to the side, eyes closed, allowing Reid more access to his throat.

Both men groan when Hotch's cell phone rings. "Ignore it," Reid whispers in Hotch's ear.

"I'd love to, you know I can't," he replies, reaching into his pocket and retrieving it. He looks at the call display; Gideon. "Hotchner," he says, trying not to sigh when Reid moves away from him. He watches Reid walk over to the patio table and sit down, eating the sandwich he'd brought out with him.

"Hotch, it's me. Garcia couldn't find any record of a pick up for Manchester that night. She says the cross referencing of cab drivers with ownership or rental of buildings in the industrial parks hasn't shown any correlation. But she has narrowed the buildings down to about a dozen in each industrial park. We're going to start checking them out, but 24 buildings are a lot."

"Yeah, they are, but it's a lot less than a couple hundred," Hotch replies. "Reid and I will still go ahead with the undercover gig—it will take days to check out those buildings."

"Okay. Morgan and Prentiss will be your back up tonight, I'm going to go search with Connie and Bel," Gideon says.

"Thanks," Hotch says and hangs up. He walks over to the table, sitting down catty-corner to Reid and starting to eat his salad and relays the information Gideon gave him.

"Doesn't really help us much, does it?" Reid asks. He shifts in his seat and glances at Hotch. After a few minutes, he speaks. "Look, about…that, I'm sorry—"

Reaching over, Hotch presses his finger against Reid's lips. "There's nothing to be sorry for. You didn't force me," he pauses for a moment. "And if it wasn't obvious, I enjoyed it." Hotch returns to eating his salad, leaving Reid to stare at him in amazement. They finish their meal in silence.

After lunch, Reid and Hotch settle into the living room to review the case files. Not that Reid really needs to re-read them, but he does; often he comes across the little things that help him make the connections.

They're sitting side by side on the couch and Reid is sifting through the information on the victims. He frowns as he thinks. "Hotch, with all these couples, the younger man was the top in the relationship, the older man the bottom. How would the unsub know that unless he knew them or he observed them?"

Hotch looks up from the file he's reading. "What are you thinking?"

"Well, the killings are getting so close together, it's not feasible that he's taking days to watch them, and…," Reid trails off as he checks the files. "And, actually, all but one couple were last seen at the Rainbow Room."

"So, if he's watching them, wants that particular combination, watching them at the Rainbow Room makes sense—Doyle's is more a pub setting—but at the bar, the couples would dance and interact in ways that could make it obvious who's top and who's bottom," Hotch says. "But how does he know they're a couple, not just one guy picking another up?"

"Unsubs are some of the best profilers. And if he picks them up in the cab…pick ups act differently than couples. If they end up not being what he's looking for, he could just drop them off wherever they're going…."

Hotch nods. "Makes sense." He takes out his cell phone. "I'm going to get Morgan and Prentiss to go to the Rainbow Room, see if they've noticed anyone fitting the unsub's description hanging around. Not that we have much of a description…"

Reid nods and continues looking through the files; nothing else jumps out at him so he tosses them back onto the coffee table.

"Morgan doubts they'll get anything with such a generic description," Hotch says.

"Yeah, but we have to try," Reid replies. "I can't see anything else that we've missed," he adds, waving his hand at the folders.

Hotch nods and leans back against the couch. Reid stares at him for a moment but averts his gaze when Hotch looks at him. "I'm going to get a coffee, do you want anything?" Reid asks, climbing off the couch and heading into the kitchen.

"Yeah, coffee'd be good."

A few minutes later, Reid hands a cup to Hotch before sitting beside him again. They sip their coffee in companionable silence.

Leaning forward, Hotch sets his cup on the table and then glances at Reid. "So, being a 'top' doesn't bother you?"

Reid grins and shrugs. "Well, it means I get to boss you around for a little while—I think I'll enjoy it."

Hotch chuckles. "Don't let it go to your head."

"Don't worry, I won't," Reid replies, setting his cup aside. "What about you? Can you handle being a bottom?" he asks with a smirk.

Something in Hotch's gaze shifts, softens, as he looks at Reid. "Yeah," is all he says.

"Kiss me," Reid says firmly.

Hotch leans in, closing his eyes as his lips press against Reid's. It starts out chaste, lips moving over lips, but soon Reid is licking at Hotch's lips. Hotch opens his mouth to him as he slides his arms around Reid's waist. They make out for a few minutes, kissing and touching each other until Reid gently pushes Hotch back so that he's lying on the couch, breaking their kiss. He lays on top of Hotch and smiles down at him. "Practice?"

"Yes," Hotch replies with a smile.

Reid kisses him again, claiming Hotch's mouth with his own, pushing his tongue into his mouth and moaning at the taste of the other man. Hotch slides his hands under Reid's shirt, caressing the warm skin of his back. He whimpers as Reid starts kissing and licking at the skin of his throat, while his hands are busy undoing Hotch's shirt. Reid growls upon discovering the undershirt Hotch is wearing but he pushes it up, kissing across Hotch's chest. He sucks on a nipple, his tongue flicking it, teeth grazing it as he slides his mouth off of it, seeking its mate to inflict similar torture.

"Spencer," Hotch whispers. His hands glide down Reid's back, slipping down to cup his ass, pulling him closer and pressing their erections together.

Reid groans and is just reaching down to stroke Hotch's cock when Hotch's cell phone rings, again. "Fuck, I'm really starting to hate phones," he says, sitting up, allowing Hotch to answer his phone.

Hotch chuckles at Reid. "Sorry." He looks at the display and sighs seeing who it is. "It's Haley. I won't be long."

Getting off the couch, Reid grabs the coffee cups off the table and takes them into the kitchen. He watches Hotch talk to his wife and he feels guilty—that's twice he's come onto Hotch! Not only is Hotch his boss, but he's a married man. _Hey, it takes two to tango_ the little voice in his head tells him. Reid sighs, knowing it's true and he wonders why Hotch would respond to him; he sighs, figuring Hotch was just getting into the role play. He stares out the kitchen window, wondering when his life got so complicated.

Reid is so focussed on staring out the window that he doesn't hear Hotch end his phone call or walk up behind him.

"Spencer?"

Reid turns around. "What?"

Hotch reaches out to wrap his arms around him and is surprised when Reid swats his arms away. "What's wrong?" he asks, puzzled.

"Hotch! You were just talking to your wife…and now you want to do this?" Reid says, walking away from him.

"She left me. We're getting a divorce," Hotch says, his voice low.

Reid turns around to stare at him. "I…I'm sorry," he says, reaching out to touch Hotch's arm.

Hotch shrugs. "It's been coming for a while. She's been having an affair. We're just better off apart than together."

Reaching out, Reid pulls Hotch into a hug. "I'm so sorry, Aaron."

Hotch doesn't reply, he just wraps his arms around Reid and presses his face against his neck, sighing when Reid strokes his hair.

*****************************  
"Blue or green?"

Hotch turns around to look at Reid, who is holding up two shirts; one is light blue, the other dark green. "Green," Hotch replies, fastening his ankle holster, making sure it's secure. He pulls on a tight black t-shirt to go with the black jeans he's wearing. Turning around again, he stares at Reid; he's wearing tight dark-blue jeans and the green shirt is a button down and he has the top couple of buttons undone. Hotch gives a wolf whistle and grins when a faint blush shades Reid's face.

Walking over to Reid, Hotch grabs his hips. "You look hot, I like those jeans on you."

Reid shakes his head as he slides his hands up Hotch's bare arms to the sleeves of his t-shirt. "I don't look that good. Not as good as you, at least."

"I disagree," Hotch says, voice low. He leans in, claiming Reid's mouth in a hard, tongue filled kiss and he slides his hands around to cup his ass, pulling him closer. Reid opens his mouth to Hotch, sucking on his tongue as they both moan. After a few minutes, Hotch pulls back, sighing. "We should get going," he says.

Reid leans his forehead against Hotch's, closing his eyes. "Yeah, I guess we should. Duty calls."

Rainbow Room  
Dexter City

Reid pushes his way through the crowd, making his way back to the bar from the bathroom. His eyes scan the bar, looking for Hotch and he sees him, sitting on the same stool he'd left him at, however, there is a tall, blond, muscular hunk chatting him up. Reid frowns, a little surprised at the jealousy that surges through him. He moves more quickly, walking up beside Hotch and sliding an arm around his shoulders. "Whatcha doing, baby?" he asks.

Hotch smiles at him. "Nothing, just talking to Ken."

Turning the stool so that Hotch is facing him, Reid moves between his legs. "Really? Doesn't look like nothing." He presses his body against Hotch's. "I go to the bathroom and that means you can try and pick up some strange guy?" Reid doesn't give Hotch a chance to answer; he kisses him, hard and possessively, his tongue pushing into Hotch's mouth. Hotch moans, sliding his arms around Reid's waist, pulling him closer and letting Reid kiss him. Reid can feel Ken watching them, but ignores him and doesn't stop kissing Hotch until Ken walks away.

Reid pulls back and stares at Hotch. "You're mine, don't forget that."

"I won't," Hotch says, face serious.

"Good." Reid kisses him on the cheek before sitting down on the stool next to Hotch.

They continually scan the other patrons, looking for someone who fits the vague description they have of the unsub. After a while, they move to a booth at one of the tables along the edge of the wall, sitting together, arms around each other, making out; just another couple enjoying a night out.

Around one a.m., when there's barely an hour left until the club closes, Hotch stands up and pulls Reid up next to him. "Let's dance," he says, leaning in so Reid can hear him.

"Won't that make it hard to see him if he shows up?"

Hotch shrugs. "Maybe, but it's hard to really tell anyone apart in that crowd."

"Do we have to?"

"You can't dance?"

"I can dance just fine…it's just so crowded," Reid says, hanging back.

"C'mon, Spencer, please, just for a few minutes?" Hotch pleads.

Reid chuckles. "Who knew you were a dance fiend? Okay, fine. Just for a few minutes."

Hotch smiles and grabs Reid's hand, pulling him along as he makes his way through the crush of bodies on the dance floor. He doesn't go too far onto the dance floor; they have to be able to get through the club quickly. Stopping, he turns to face Reid and starts dancing, letting the music take over. Reid starts dancing and while he's self-conscious at first, soon, he's moving to the beat of the music.

The crush and sway of the dancers around them presses Hotch and Reid together; Reid falters for a moment but Hotch keeps moving. Song after song, they're moving together; sweating, bodies gyrating, cocks brushing together and getting hard. Even though he knows they're here for another purpose, Hotch finds his focus narrowing to his awareness of Spencer Reid dancing and pressing his body against Hotch's.

Closing his eyes only brings back fragments of the dreams he's been having. Before he can open his eyes, Hotch feels one of Reid's hands sliding behind his neck, pulling him closer; Reid's other hand is cupping Hotch's ass. Reid kisses him; it's hard and wet—Reid licks at Hotch's lips and Hotch opens his mouth to him. He sucks on Reid's tongue, feeling more than hearing the moan this causes. Reid's rubbing his cock against Hotch's, trying to fuck him through their clothes.

Hotch wraps his arms around Reid's waist; their movements have slowed—instead of keeping in time with the crowd around them, they're dancing to the tune of the desire between them.

He loses track of time; Hotch has tuned out everything but Reid. Reid slides his mouth along Hotch's jaw line, kissing and licking a path to his ear. He licks at the shell of his ear, blowing cool air over the moist skin and Hotch shudders, his hands slide under Reid's shirt, fingers trailing delicately up and down the skin of Reid's back.

The music stops and Hotch opens his eyes, blinking against the harshness of the bright main lights of the club. "Damn it, worse than my dreams" he mutters.

Reid glances at him sharply and says, "I guess they're closing, the bars here have to close at 2 a.m."

They still have their arms wrapped around each other and it takes a few minutes before they can walk off the dance floor. Hotch's cell phone rings as they walk outside, into the refreshing night air. "Hotchner."

"Hey, you guys get anything?" Morgan asks.

"No, but the club's so busy, we could've missed him. You get anything?"

"Nada. We did take down the info on any cabs that stopped—but none of them seemed to be driven by a tall dark haired guy with a brush cut."

"We'll try again tomorrow night if nothing pops on the cab info."

"Okay, man. Good night."

"Good night." Hotch ends the call and looks at Reid. "They didn't get anything either."

"We knew it could be a long shot," Reid says, shrugging.

"Yeah. We may as well head home," Hotch replies.

In the car on the way back to the duplex, Reid glances at Hotch. "Um, you said something about dreams, when we were, um, interrupted. What did you mean?"

Hotch keeps his eyes on the road but his hands grip the steering wheel a little tighter. "It's nothing really. I just had a couple dreams that involved a night club…and you."

"You did?" Reid asks, staring at Hotch in shock. "I…I've been having dreams about you…it started out with us in a club and each dream seems to continue on from the last one. And you were being very…submissive. Were yours like that?"

Unsure if he wants to admit to it or not, Hotch drives silently through the darkened streets. His voice is very quiet when he answers. "Yes, my dreams were similar to that. But they're just dreams, Spencer. They don't mean anything."

They pull into the driveway of the duplex and Reid slides over next to Hotch and whispers in his ear, "If they're not important why are we having them…and why are you hard again?" He slides his hand between Hotch's legs, squeezing his cock. "They turned you on, didn't they? Submitting to me in your dreams turned you on."

Hotch moans, closing his eyes, his head falling back against the headrest. "Yes," he whispers hoarsely. "It turned…turns me on."

Reid licks Hotch's ear. "It turns me on, too," he says, before kissing Hotch. "Let's go inside and do something about it."

All Hotch can do is nod.

As soon as the door closes, Reid pushes Hotch against the wall, claiming his mouth in a hard kiss. He pushes his tongue into Hotch's mouth making him moan. Hotch wraps his arms around Reid, pulling him close and sliding his hands over Reid's ass.

Reid's hips jerk, pushing his erection against Hotch's cock. Reid slides one hand into Hotch's hair, cupping his head, while his other hand is trailing down Hotch's chest, caressing and pinching his nipple through his t-shirt. Hotch arches his back and moans as Reid plays with his tit.

After a few minutes, Reid pulls back to look at Hotch. "What do you want? Tell me what you want, Aaron," he whispers.

Hotch maintains eye contact with Reid, saying, "You, I want you to fuck me, own me, make me yours. So much."

"Then that's what you'll get," Reid says. He tugs on Hotchs arms. "Bedroom, now," he orders before kissing Hotch again. They keep kissing as they move through the house. By the time they make it upstairs, both men are clad only in their underwear, the rest of their clothing discarded on the way.

They both undress quickly and Reid smiles when he sees one of his ties lying across the foot of the bed. He picks it up, letting the fabric slide over his hands, and fall through his fingers; Reid can see Hotch watching him from where he's sitting on the edge of the bed. He walks slowly over to Hotch and loops the tie around his neck, pulling him gently forward. "Suck me," Reid says, staring at Hotch.

Hotch obeys, his hands grasping Reid's hips as he leans forward, flicking his tongue over the head of Reid's cock before sucking it into his mouth. Reid gasps, hips thrusting forward and his hands tugging on the tie. Hotch closes his eyes and slowly slides his mouth down the length of Reid's cock, his tongue caressing the underside of it. Reid is panting now, his hands pulling hard on the tie. Feeling the pressure on the back of his neck, Hotch works his mouth up and down Reid's cock, loving the taste of him. He slides his hands around to caress Reid's ass as he deep throats his cock. Reid shouts and comes, shooting down Hotch's throat.

Reid releases the tie, his hands coming up to cup Hotch's face as Reid's cock slides out of his mouth. "Oh, god, that was incredible," Reid whispers, leaning down to kiss Hotch. They kiss for a few minutes before Reid breaks the kiss. He pulls off of Hotch; "Lie down," he says and watches Hotch obey him.

Hotch does as Reid orders, stretching out on the bed, spreading his legs, reaching over his head to grab the head board.

"God, you're so fucking hot," Reid mutters, kneeling on the bed between Hotch's legs, running his hands over his thighs and staring at him the entire time. "You'd do anything I asked, wouldn't you?" He grins at Hotch's nod of assent.

Reid leans forward, stretching over Hotch's body. He wraps the tie around Hotch's wrists and secures the tie to the head board. His trails his hands down Hotch's arms to his shoulders and he presses a brief kiss to Hotch's mouth. "This is what you want." Statement, not a question, but Hotch still nods his head in agreement.

"Safe word?"

"Quantico," Hotch says without hesitation.

Reid chuckles. "Good choice." He leans over, kissing along Hotch's jaw line up to his ear. He sucks and nips at Hotch's earlobe, making him hiss. Slowly, Reid licks, kisses, and bites his way down Hotch's neck, while his hands rub slowly down Hotch's body; he pauses at Hotch's nipples, his fingers caressing and pinching them.

"Fuck, Spencer!" Hotch hisses, his hips thrusting, head turning from side to side.

"Oh, you like that, do you?" Reid asks with a smirk. He lowers his mouth to suck on one of Hotch's nipples, while his fingers play with the other one. Hotch is writhing on the bed beneath him, hips jerking as he tries to rub his erection against Reid. Moving his mouth to pay attention to Hotch's other nipple, Reid strokes his fingertips lightly over Hotch's cock, making him groan.

"Spencer, _please_," Hotch pleads. "I need you, so much, please."

Reid bites Hotch's nipple before laving it with his tongue. He leans over and opens the nightstand drawer, pulling out a tube of lube. He sees Hotch's questioning look. Reid laughs. "I found it earlier—I guess the PD has a sense of humour. God bless 'em."

"Yes, God bless them," Hotch repeats, chuckling.

Reid kisses him, briefly, sliding his hands under Hotch's knees as he does. He pulls Hotch's legs up toward his chest. "Hold them there, for few minutes, baby," he whispers.

Spreading the lube on his fingers, Reid pushes a finger into Hotch's ass, sliding it in and out slowly. He adds a second finger and slowly scissors them, stretching Hotch. He crooks his fingers, brushing Hotch's prostate as he pulls his finger out.

Hotch thrusts his hips, his head tilting back as he whimpers. "Spencer, please…."

"You want me to fuck you? Do you?"

"Yes, please, Spencer," Hotch is whining now.

Reid spreads the lube onto his cock and he leans over Hotch, slowly pushing his cock into his hole. Hotch moans; his breathing is heavy as he turns his head to the side. He shifts his legs, wrapping them around Reid's waist, urging him on.

"Fuck, Aaron," Reid whispers once his cock is all the way inside Hotch. "You're so fucking tight, feels so good," he says, leaning forward and kissing him, sliding his tongue into Hotch's mouth.

He pulls back a bit, still staring at Hotch as he begins fucking him. He starts out slow, pulling almost all the way out before slamming into him again. Hotch digs his heels into Reid's ass, encouraging him. "Faster, please, fuck me, harder."

Reid complies; he starts pounding into his lover harder and faster; Hotch moans, his body arched slightly, pulling on his restraints and his head is thrashing from side to side as he moans.

Reaching out, Reid starts stroking Hotch's cock in time to his thrusts into his ass. Hotch shouts out at the touch and his hips are moving even more as moves between the two sensations. Reid leans down again, kissing and nuzzling Hotch's neck. "Oh, god, I'm close, come for me, Aaron, come for me," he whispers against his skin.

Hotch moans, his body tensing momentarily as his orgasm hits him—his hips jerk as he spurts come over Reid's hand and his ass clenches around Reid's cock. Another few thrusts and Reid is shouting his own release, pushing as far into Hotch as he comes in his ass.

Reid collapses on Hotch and they stay that way for a few minutes, until Hotch shifts uncomfortably. Reid looks up and smiles. "Sorry, baby, I forgot," he says, giving him a quick kiss. He rubs Hotch's arms before untying them. "You okay?"

Hotch wraps his arms around Reid, rolling them over so Reid's lying on his back and Hotch is draped across him, pressing his face against his chest. "I'm fine. Pretty close to perfect…," he says as his eyes start to close.

Reid smiles, closing his eyes, "Yeah. Me too," he says. It isn't long before both men are sound asleep, wrapped in each other's arms.

******************  
The next night, Hotch and Reid are back at the Rainbow Room. No new evidence had turned up nor has any of the information Morgan collected last night led to anything.

The club is as crowded as it had been the night before and Hotch wonders if this isn't futility in action.

"Hotch," Reid says, standing behind him, arms wrapped around his waist. "We've got to try. You know he won't stop unless he's stopped."

"I know, it just seems like we're wasting out time."

Reid kisses the side of Hotch's neck. "At least we get to have fun wasting our time."

Chuckling, Hotch turns around and kisses Reid firmly on the mouth. Before he can speak, his cell phone rings. He answers it; it's Morgan.

"Hotch, we've got a guy in a cab out here that fits the unsub's description," Morgan says.

"Okay, we'll be right out," Hotch says, almost yelling to be heard above the noise of the crowed. "C'mon, they might have him outside," he says to Reid.

The two men quickly make their way out of the club. Hotch still has Morgan on the cell. "Where?"

"Up the road to your left. Prentiss did a walk by—he fits the description Manchester gave us. He's had his on duty sign on since he pulled up, which is odd if he's a real cabbie."

"I see him. Reid and I will walk by, see if he offers us a ride. If it is him, he's going to jam our cell phones. If Reid and I get in, follow us."

"Got it," Morgan says, hanging up.

Hotch puts his cell phone back in his pocket before wrapping an arm around Reid's waist. "It's the third car up on the left. We're going to walk by, see if he offers us a drive—if he does, we'll get in. I've told Morgan to follow us. We won't be able to use our cell phones if it is him."

Reid nods. "Okay." He's nervous as he slides an arm around Hotch's shoulders. Hotch leans in and kisses him, quickly.

The walk down the street and are completely past the cab when they hear a low voice calling to them. "Hey, you guys need a cab?"

They turn and look at the cab and the driver. He's a big guy, dark hair in a brush cut. Reid looks at Hotch and then back to the cabbie. "Hey, man, yeah that'd be great, thanks." Hotch opens the door and Reid slides into the cab, Hotch behind him.

"Where to?" the cabbie asks.

"1569 Taylor Crescent," Reid says.

Once the car is in gear, the doors lock; Reid and Hotch look at one another; Reid points at the door—there's no way to unlock them. Hotch nods and then slides an arm around Reid. He leans in, pressing his mouth against Reid's ear, he whispers to him. Reid nods his head.

Reid frowns. "He's going the wrong way, isn't he?"

Hotch looks out the window. "Yeah, he is." He raps on the Plexiglas barrier, "Hey, you're going the wrong way!"

The driver doesn't move, except to shift his eyes to glance in the rear-view mirror.

Pounding on the barrier, now, Hotch yells at him. "Stop the damned cab! Where are you taking us?"

Reid pulls out his cell phone but it won't work. "Aaron, my phone isn't working! What's he doing? What's happening?"

Hotch takes out his phone and checks it. "Mine's not working either," he says and then pulls Reid into a hug, turning his head so he can see out the back window. "It'll be okay, Spencer, I promise." Hotch is relieved to see that Morgan and Prentiss are following them. "Try your door."

Turning, Hotch tries the door on his side, knowing it's useless but they have to act the part. Neither he nor Reid can get their doors open.

"Aaron, it's locked, there's no way to unlock it!"

"I can't unlock mine either," Hotch says. He puts his arm back around Reid.

After a few minutes, the car pulls up in front of a small concrete building. The driver hits a remote and the loading bay door opens; he drives them inside and shuts the door before turning off the cab's engine.

As the driver gets out of the car, walking around to the passenger side to open the door closest to Reid, Hotch reaches down, pulling his weapon out of its rig. He keeps it out of sight on the seat between him and Reid.

The car door opens and the driver points his gun at Reid. "Get out of the car!" He looks at Hotch, "Don't try anything or he's dead!"

Reid looks at the driver and instead of getting out of the car, he leans over, arms wrapped around his middle. "Oh, god, I think I'm gonna be sick," Reid moans, leaning down as far as he can.

As the man leans into the car, Hotch raises his gun and targets him—firing before the driver realises what is happening. His shot hits him in the shoulder and he falls back. Reid scurries out of the car, kicking his gun away from him.

Hotch follows, keeping his gun trained on the man, who's grabbing his shoulder, curled over in pain. "Don't move, FBI," Hotch says. To Reid, he says, "Grab that remote from the car and open the door; Morgan and Prentiss were behind us."

Reid quickly complies and opens the door. Moments later Morgan and Prentiss pull up. Morgan is out of the car almost before it stops and he runs into the building. "You guys okay?"

"Yeah," Hotch says. "Can you cuff him?"

Morgan smirks. "My pleasure," he says and does so. "Connie and Bel are on the way," he says.

******************  
BAU Jet  
En route to Quantico

The man who'd taken Hotch and Reid was one Albert Parker. There was an abundance of forensic evidence linking him to the murders; videotapes had also been found. He'd lost his younger, fair-haired lover almost five months before—the two of them had been visiting friends in LA and had been attacked when leaving a club. The younger man had been beaten to death and Parker hadn't been able to protect him, he'd turned that rage from himself and put it onto other people.

Hotch and Reid sat on the sofa; they hadn't had much alone time since the night they captured Parker. Now, Hotch was reviewing case files, while Reid was reading a magazine. The rest of the team was sleeping or, in Morgan's case, listening to music on his iPod.

Hotch reaches over, touching Reid's hand gently. Reid looks at him, eyebrow raised. Hotch mouths the word "Bathroom." Reid nods as Hotch stands up, walking to the back of the plane to the washrooms. Reid follows a couple minutes later. He raps gently on the door and it opens.

He walks inside and Hotch grabs him and pulls him into an embrace. Reid wraps his arms around Hotch and kisses him chastely. "It's only been a couple days but I miss you," Hotch says.

"Me too," Reid smiles, realising he's relieved that Hotch still seems to want him. "I was worried that, well…"

"That I didn't want you, that it was all acting? Oh, Spencer, I still want you…and I'm pretty sure I'm falling in love with you…" Hotch trails off, whispering the last bit.

Reid looks at him in surprise and then smiles again; that true, rare smile that lights up his face. "Well, Aaron, I'm pretty sure I'm already in love with you…"

Hotch chuckles and smiles softly. He pulls Reid close and kisses him. Reid kisses him back, taking control of the kiss, sliding his tongue into Hotch's mouth. When the kiss ends, Reid stares at Hotch for a few long moments before speaking. "Don't forget that you are mine," he says.

Hotch blinks and then smiles. "I could never forget." He pauses for a moment. "My life is going to be a bit…complicated for the next while. Haley and I are going to be divorcing and there's Jack to consider."

"Yeah, but I'll be there to help you through it. And…I'm sure I'll get used to Jack. Besides, he's not a wrinkly little baby anymore," Spencer says with a grin and a shrug. "I suppose we should get back."

Hotch shakes his head, still smiling. "Yes, I suppose we should," he says, opening the door and peering outside. He walks out and Reid follows him a few seconds later. They make their way back to the sofa and this time, when they sit down, they sit closer together; Reid sits to Hotch's right, so that when Hotch's right hand splays on the sofa between them, Reid's left hand can fall down beside it, their fingers barely brushing.

It's not much in the way of contact. But it's enough.


End file.
